


Sick Day

by jsoap



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cute, Doctor Who Feels, Doctor Who References, Doctor/Patient, F/M, Fluff, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsoap/pseuds/jsoap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short fluffy fic about Rose getting sick and the Doctor taking care of his patient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

Rose, with a struggle, opened her tired eyes. She rubbed them, wrought with gunk, so she could see. The twinkling constellation simulated above her bed had stopped casting starlight across the room, and now displayed the soft orangey-purple of a rising sun. The clock on her bedside table read 5:04 AM, gently blinking every other second. She smiled. The Doctor had set her clock to match Cardiff time and the sky simulation above her bed to mimic how the vast landscape of space appeared back home. She thought of her mum, and hoped that Mickey was doing well. She herself was galaxies away, the TARDIS sat tucked in a discreet garden on a planet people back on Earth would never dream of. She lay in bed for a while, tossing and turning and never feeling comfortable. She couldn’t quite place it - something didn’t feel right. After nearly an hour of restless movement, she settled on trying for a glass of water in the kitchen. She sat up quickly, confident that if she got a refresher she would be able to squeeze in just an hour more of sleep before her and her Doctor were off for the day.

Sitting up was a mistake.

Dizzying pain erupted in her frontal lobe, and her ears felt as though they were being smashed with a hammer. She let out a tiny yelp, feeling the blood surge to her cranium, and wanted to melt back into the soft bed comforter that suddenly felt hot and constricting. She felt a churning in the pit of her stomach as her arms and legs suddenly began to ache. She knew instantly that she was going to heave, and she intended to do it in the loo. She took short, shaky steps toward her bathroom in the corner of her bedroom, taking great effort into not upchucking the large dinner she’d eaten the night before. She collapsed onto the cold tiled floors and slumped onto the toilet bowl, gag reflex sentencing her to physical hell. 

A few hallways away, the Doctor shoved his arms into the sleeves of his purpley-blue lounging robe, a gift from Rose last Christmas, and shot out of his own bedroom like a rocket. Though her distraught cries of the early morning were small, he had woken with a start and began to instantly construct plans on how to save his Rose from whatever hellish monsters awaited him. He always knew when his precious flower needed him. 

The Doctor clumsily raced through Rose’s room to the bathroom, where she sat, being mercilessly attacked by . . . flu symptoms? She sniffled and raised a flushed face to meet his concerned and caring eyes. He put his hand gently to her forehead, which felt smooth and burning. “You’ve got a fever, it seems, Rose.”

“How did you hear me? Was I really that loud?” she asked, back in her room and feeling bad she’d woke him.  
“No, I’m just a Doctor itching for a patient I suppose, I pounce at the slightest sign of sickness. Now, would you please, step onto the examining table, Miss Tyler, we have some serious, erm, uh . . . thingies to sort out.”  
“Thingies?”  
“I’m rusty, don’t make fun of me. Now, we’ll need to take your temperature first, Miss Tyler, so please let me put the thermometer under your tongue.”

She stuck her tongue out playfully, and the Doctor replied silently with a small smile and a raised eyebrow. As he put the thermometer in her mouth, he pulled out of his pocket a small hammer with a rubber end. He tapped just above her right knee, which struck out and kicked him. “Oi! I’m just trying to help, no need for personal attacks!” She giggled, and though he was rubbing his knee painfully, he beamed a radiant smile. The thermometer gave a small beep.

“Well, well, well, Miss Tyler. You’ve got a 101 fever, a very flushed face, and nausea? I’m going to diagnose you with the flu. Has someone not been counting to thirty seconds when they wash their hands?”  
“The flu?! Ugh, do you have any medicine that would work fast, so I can rid myself of this crap?”  
“The stuff that I have would get rid of the sickness in less than an hour, but to give it to you, you know, you, being a human and all...you’d be dead in less than half. And I suppose you wouldn’t want that. We’ll just have to stick to Theraflu for you, Rose.”  
“Whatever will make me feel better.”

The Doctor flipped her pillow over, then fluffed up her blankets and helped her into them. He turned the heat off and reached for the light to turn it off. “I’ll be back in one moment with some more sick day stuff.”

Minutes later he walked into the room, juice and soup on a tray in one hand and a stuffed bag in the other. He gently placed the tray on her lap, then plopped the bag in front of her. 

“What’s this?” she questioned.  
“Movies that apparently are popular down on Earth ranging from the day you were born to now. Your generation’s entertainment. Also, this.”

He pulled out a small stuffed bear and pushed it into Rose’s arms. 

“Oh, Doctor, he’s gorgeous! He’s all brown and fluffy, and look at that, he’s even got a little proper red bow tie ‘round his neck! This little bear makes bow ties look cool. By far the best medicine I’ve ever received.” She gave him a soft kiss on it’s fuzzy forehead, then did the same to the Doctor. He acted nonchalant but allowed himself a small secret smile off to the side. “So,” he said, fidgeting with his hands, “do you want to sleep now or-”

“Stay with me, Doctor.” Rose pleaded, as if he’d ever say no.

He cheered inside and shoved a movie into the DVD player on the other side of the room. The Pixar logo played its animation, and Rose smiled watching the little lamp stamp out the ‘I’. The Doctor snuggled in happily next to her under her soft, thick comforter. “What’re we watching?”she asked, placing the bear on the Doctor’s lap. “Cars,” he said excitedly. “It’s supposed to be funny, but it’s for children, so I hope you still like i-”

Rose pushed a finger to his lips. “It’ll be a good movie. You’re a good Doctor, by the way. You take good care of me. Thank you, for that.”

“You take good care of me, too. Just returning the favor.” 

She kissed him softly on the lips. He chuckled nervously, and she took his hand in hers. And she lay like that for a while, watching his happy face entranced by the movie. Studying his messy brown hair, his underlying freckles, his dazzling white teeth when he laughed. She buried her face in his soft cotton t-shirt, inhaling his scent and his warmth. He put his arm around her and held her tight to his body. 

“Don’t let go, and don’t leave me.”  
“Of course not, Rose. Never.”

It thundered outside. The plants in the garden on the tiny foreign planet rustled quietly. 

The Doctor heard. And though Rose was already sleeping, slumped into his shoulder, gently snoring, he whispered softly to her.

“A storm’s approaching.”


End file.
